


Dinner for Two

by andthewhales



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Also some fluff, M/M, Smut, anniversary dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthewhales/pseuds/andthewhales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick tries taking Daryl to a sushi restaurant for their anniversary. It doesn't exactly go as planned, but they still manage to enjoy their evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner for Two

Daryl handled chopsticks about as well as he handled social interaction with strangers. Unsteadily and with an abundance of frustration swearing.

Initially, Rick had been unsure about taking him to the new sushi place for their anniversary. Rick had only had it once before, and Daryl’s food preferences rarely ranged beyond woodland creatures and steak. He’d debated over it for days, and last minute he’d almost passed the restaurant and opted to just drive out to their usual diner. But now, as he watched his boyfriend blushing lightly and struggling to keep the California roll from hitting the plate for the third time, it seemed like the best idea he'd ever had.

Daryl’s hands shook a little as the food slowly rose to his lips. And even though Rick could see it coming, he managed not to burst out laughing when not only the roll, but both chopsticks, slipped out of Daryl's grasp and clattered onto the table.

"Sonuva' bitch," Daryl groused, but quietly enough that only Rick could hear. "If ya wanted me to starve, we could'a just stayed home. Dunno why you wanna eat raw fish anyways."

"Come on, it's not so bad. Here."

He reached over and snatched up another piece with relative ease and held it inches from his boyfriend's lips. Daryl's mouth pulled down into an insulted frown, eyes glaring at Rick as he leaned back away from the proffered food.

"This ain't a damn chick flick, cowboy."

"No, but it is our anniversary. You can humor me for one cheesy, romantic moment, can't you?"

The glare only intensified, but Rick wasn't deterred and he could see the tiniest bit of a smile tugging at the redneck’s mouth. After two years together, he could outlast any Dixon tantrum. Daryl knew it, too, and after just a few moments of pouting, he rolled his eyes and jerked forward to snatch the food from the chopsticks. Rick waited for the reaction with a small smile. 

"Not bad," Daryl admitted at length, "Be better if I could used a damned fork, though."

"We've got forks at home. Want to box it and go?"

A flash of guilt crossed his lover’s face and he bit at his lower lip in uncertainty. “We don’t gotta. Don’t wanna ruin your plans or anything.”

Rick only laughed. “I really don’t mind; I've got other plans for tonight, too. If you wanna go, we can go.”

"God, yes." Daryl was up and out of his chair before Rick could even flag the waiter down, tossing his napkin hastily to the table. "I'll go get the car."

Rick laughed again and watched him practically sprint out the door. When the waiter came by a couple minutes later, Rick asked for two boxes and an order of coconut ice cream with extra chocolate sauce. Maybe the dinner hadn't gone exactly how he planned, but eating at home also had its advantages. There was still plenty of potential for an enjoyable anniversary evening ahead of them.

*****

Daryl was losing his mind and it was entirely Rick's fault.

Well. Maybe not entirely. It was mostly Daryl's fault they'd left the restaurant and come home, and Daryl was pretty damn sure they wouldn't have been doing this if they'd stayed.

Daryl was sprawled on his back on the living room floor, his naked torso covered in melting ice cream and sticky chocolate drizzle, while Rick licked and nipped and sucked the sweet mess off every bit of his exposed skin.

He stifled a low, rumbling groan as a dollop of ice cream trailed down over one nipple. Shivers wracked his body as the heat of Rick's mouth soon followed after it, teeth scraping over the pebbling flesh and tugging far too gently. He reached up to tangle his fingers in soft brown curls and urge the warm sensations lower, to the stripes of chocolate adorning his stomach and hips.

"Uh-uh," Rick admonished, peppering playful bites over the sensitive skin of his ribs, where the muscles beneath jumped and twitched, "I told you to keep your hands down, sweetheart."

"I've been good enough 'til now, quit teasing," he growled. But even as he argued his let his hand drop, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the hardwood floor.   
"I don't see why you're in such a rush. You're loving this."

Fingertips, feather-light, whispered against the hardened length pressed up against his belly. He keened and thrust forward, seeking firm contact and was denied. Those nimble fingers danced away to gain purchase at his hip, forcing him back down and effectively halting any further movement. Daryl felt Rick's grin in the crook of his neck when he swore under his breath. 

His torture continued, slow and soft and agonizing as all hell, until Rick was using both hands to keep him pinned with a bruising grip as he twisted and bucked in a desperate attempt for more, for something deeper to turn the fire in his core into more than just an ache. The sticky mess was almost completely gone, but his lover's tongue and lips were still busy mapping out his body, inciting little shocks of pleasure like lightning on his skin. His grunts and growls deteriorated into moans and whines until he was all but ready to beg. It was exactly what Rick was waiting for, Daryl had known that from the start, but hell if he ever gave in without a fight.

"Rick, come on," he demanded. 

"Say it."

"Dammit, quit playin' around!"

One hand left his hip, re-positioning itself behind his knee and pushing insistently until his leg was bent up against his chest. The curly head of hair dipped down low, the coarse hairs of Rick’s beard tickling and scraping the soft space at the juncture of his thigh. Then suddenly wet heat was laving at his entrance, barely there. But enough to make him break.

"Fuck, Rick, please."

Again he could feel the other man's smile against his skin even though he couldn't see it, and then his leg was sliding over Rick's arm and onto his shoulder. He heard a bottle cap snap open somewhere off to the side and was more than ready for the slick finger that nudged against him.

The digit slipped smoothly inside, and soon after Rick's mouth was engulfing him as well. The dual sensations had him gasping for breath in seconds, every other exhale a half-formed curse as he rocked back against the penetration and up into overwhelming heat, not even knowing which he wanted more. All Daryl was sure of in that moment was that it wouldn't take long to push him over the edge like this.

"Baby, I-I'm not gonna last."

The only response was a second finger pushing in with the first, hard and fast and in stark contrast with the slow swirl of a tongue at the tip of his cock. Then a thumb stroked persistently at his perineum, and just like that he was lost in the burning white haze of his orgasm, mouth stuttering around Rick's name, body writhing helplessly on the waves of pleasure.

His fall back to reality was soft and unhurried. Rick moved to curl against him contentedly, arms secured around his waist and shoulders. When Daryl recovered his senses enough to move, he rolled them over, covering the other man with his body and seeking out lips for a languid kiss.

"Love you," he mumbled and burrowed his face into Rick's chest. Rick hummed in amusement.

"Post-coital declarations of love. Now who's the chick flick romantic?"

Daryl sighed in exasperation. "Yeah, well, in the chick flick does one of 'em ever bend the other over his knee when he's being an ass?"

"No, but I love that you're willing to deviate from the norm."

"Damn right I am."


End file.
